


With my lost saints

by FranTurner



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 10:26:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FranTurner/pseuds/FranTurner
Summary: Serena undertakes a dangerous operation...





	With my lost saints

**Author's Note:**

> The people at BBC Holby City have promised an “explosive” episode at New Year. Here’s my take on what should happen…

They had to clear all unnecessary personnel from the theatre. Indeed, they completely evacuated a pathway from the ambulance drop-off zone to the theatre on AAU.  
Zav suggested drawing straws to decide who should operate but Serena overruled him.  
“It’s above your pay grade. And this one has got my name on it.”  
She set her jaw firmly, narrowed her eyes. This would be the operation of her life or…  
Hanssen stood beside her.  
“Miss Campbell, are you certain you want to proceed. I could…”  
“No, Henrik, this is mine… and I’ll work alone. Everyone goes behind the screen, including the anaesthetist.”  
Hanssen nodded. They would take every precaution possible, of course.  
“As you wish, Serena. You’ll need to wear body armour.”  
“What?”  
“I insist. The Army is rushing one over.”  
“Oh for… how am I expected to work in one of those things?”  
“I’m assured that they’re not that cumbersome.”  
Serena scrubbed in alone. Her heart was racing. She knew that this was the most dangerous thing she’d done in her life. She’d definitely earn her Shiraz today.  
The young man – 20, 21 years old? – was a climate crisis protester. He’d made it his life’s mission to stop fossil fuel exploration in the Bristol Channel. He’d been picketing the drilling company for months and had been largely ignored.  
So he’d Googled bombs, explosives and detonators, the how-to guides that are out there in the wild west free-for-all internet that is beyond policing. Thus informed, he’d gathered the ingredients and prepared a chemical explosive and its acidic detonator. He was ready to blow himself up as close to the main entrance of the company as possible.  
Determined to make a loud statement, he got a friend to film his preparation and post the video on YouTube – linking across all the major social media. It worked. The press soon gathered. And the Police. And the Army – with the Bomb Disposal Squad.  
But the IEDs were beyond their reach.  
The young protester had swallowed half a dozen small plastic bags of the explosive. All he had to do was drink the acidic catalyst to dissolve the bags and ignite their contents. He planned to blow himself to smithereens on the front steps, in front of the revolving door.  
He hadn’t factored in chemical seepage, however, as his own digestive juices began to break down the contents of his stomach. He collapsed in agony.  
A hasty on-site conference took place between the assembled emergency services. Determined to save his life, they lifted him very gently into an Army ambulance. The police closed all roads en route to Holby City Hospital. The Army medic drove as if balancing a tray of eggs on the bonnet and safely delivered his patient into the experienced care of Serena Campbell.  
She struggled into the flak jacket. It was bloody uncomfortable – they weren’t designed for full-breasted women – and she was sweating for England.  
Donna helped her into a surgical gown, fitted a mask over her face and a protective face shield.  
“Bloody hell!” Serena exclaimed, “Can they possibly make it any more difficult for me to do my job here?”  
“We don’t want you to get hurt,” Donna said softly.  
“Is he fully prepped?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then I’ll begin,” she said in her inimitable tone and with more confidence than she was feeling.  
Serena took a deep breath and quietly said to herself: “You’ve got this, Campbell.”  
In that moment, she thought of Bernie – she’d have been in her element here.  
“I’ll always love you,” she whispered.  
She walked determinedly into the operating theatre, fleetingly remembering that it was here that they had first kissed…  
She checked the vital signs monitor, studied the lad’s face, and then selected a scalpel from the tray that had been prepared by the theatre nurse.  
“Here goes,” she said out loud for the benefit of those watching, for the record. She described each step as she operated.  
Serena made a neat incision from the bottom of the rib cage to the belly button, then she cut through the subcutaneous tissue, working systematically through normal procedure for a laparotomy, opening up the peritoneum to access the internal organs. Very gently she inserted the retractors and pulled the wound open.  
She had a pretty good idea where the bags of explosive were lodged – they’d shown up clearly on the FAST scan. The image was displayed on a screen in front of her for assistance. She did a quick visual check of her patient’s viscera.  
She picked up another scalpel and the suction tip to remove excess fluid. It was going to be tricky doing this single-handed.  
She breathed in and cut into the stomach.  
They never tell you about the smell, not until it fills your nostrils. Surgeons develop excellent gag reflex control. To the normal stench of food digestion was added a curious odour of metallic chemicals – lead, copper, silver.  
With forceps, Serena deftly removed the first two bags. She could see where they had begun to leak. They hadn’t been tied very effectively, even before the young man’s stomach acids had set to work on the biodegradable bags. She described what she could see and each move she made, sharing her thoughts on the damage done and the risks to his health. Her words were recorded by the onlookers, her colleagues, and on the audio system.  
She placed each bag carefully in a tray of sand as she extracted them.  
The third one was partially lodged in the cardia, not having quite descended into the stomach. She gave it a gentle tug and it came away with ease.  
“Three to go.”  
Number four was almost in the phylonic antrum, the lower part of the stomach, and seemed to be wedged.  
“You know, it ought not to have progressed this far without having been better digested,” she thought out loud, for the record.  
Serena paused, breathed in again. Sweat was running down her forehead into her eyes. There was no nurse here to mop her brow. She blinked, straightened her shoulders and continued.  
“Here we go… looks like the bag has partially dissolved… some sort of reaction…”  
She tried to remove some of the acidic stomach fluid that was collecting around the fourth bag then placed the forceps around the bag and pulled very softly. The bag began to tear open…  
“Where’s that light coming from? I can’t see a damn thing! For god’s sake!”  
“You’ll get used to that in a minute.”  
“Who’s that?”  
She was trying to see through what looked like a white mist – must be the sweat. The voice was familiar. Surely not. Don’t be silly.  
“It’s okay, S’rena.”  
“What? Bernie?”  
“Yes.”  
“What the actual…”  
“Sshh, easy tiger! Still wearing the leopard print then.”  
“Look, this isn’t funny. It’s extremely dangerous. I… oh my god!”  
Serena turned around and saw a heap of bloody surgical gowns on the floor behind her. At least it looked like a heap of bloody surgical gowns. Then she saw the fractured face shield and the leopard print head scarf.  
She saw herself.  
“Fracture of the C6 and C7 vertebrae, complete cervical dislocation, spinal cord severed instantly. Oh, and your brain stem’s cactus too. You did a good job there, Campbell.”  
“I’m dead?”  
“Yep. I’ve come to meet you.”  
“I’m dead?!”  
“Blast threw you backwards, you hit the theatre wall at a ridiculous angle. Not very elegant. Body armour didn’t help, limited flexibility.”  
“Bernie… it is you...”  
“The one and only. Oh, and there’s… someone else here… to greet you.”  
Serena was gradually adjusting to the brilliant white light that enveloped them.  
“Ellie?”  
“Mum!”  
“Ellie, darling! Oh…”  
“Yeah, the embracing thing takes a little getting used to around here – you’ll soon get the hang of it. Granny’s here too.”  
“Oh my god!”  
“Yes… well… we’ll do that part… later,” Bernie took charge.  
She reached out to Serena who felt a wave of happiness unlike any she’d ever experienced.  
“You know,” Bernie continued, “I told you that I’d wait for you… for eternity.”


End file.
